Being Human
by FoxInBox aka FIB
Summary: Theirs was a responsibility beyond any mortal's. However, each one had a moment when they felt...human.    A series of short one-shots about the Nations and their humanity.     Rated T for some language and possible implied situations
1. Chapter 1

"The stars are really bright tonight!" came the ridiculously happy cry. Hungary turned, one eyebrow quirked upwards, to face Prussia. The dissolved nation was standing where she had left him just a moment before, his back turned to her and his face upturned. Gilbird sat on his head; a semi-darkness against moonlight-illuminated hair. "I swear-" continued the man casually, his eyes never leaving the pinpricked heavens "-if I didn't know any better, I'd say that those things are _almost _as awesome as yours truly."

Hungary rolled her eyes and gave into temptation, striding to stand beside Prussia. "What exactly are you going on about?" she demanded, her tone much more severe than she had originally intended it to be. That didn't seem to bother the other nation, though. He turned to look at her, his smile stretching his face almost to the max. Hungary resisted the temptation to take a step backwards as she found their bodies closer together than they had been for centuries. For the briefest of instances, his smile faltered and the glinting red eyes flickered with doubt. The moment was covered and forgotten about just as quickly as it had come, though.

"The stars, stupid!" restated the man, snickering and rolling his eyes like he was speaking with a moron. The statement was followed almost immediately by a loud cry, and Prussia found himself on the ground. A large welt was already forming atop his head, and his old best friend/sworn rival towered over him, twirling a frying-pan skillfully in one had. Gilbird had wisely made himself scarce as soon as his owner and Hungary were in range of one another. Mumbling profanities under his breath, Gilbert settled himself more comfortably where he lay; too lazy and stubborn to stand. A silent moment passed. Then, with a quiet and reserved sigh, Elizabeta settled herself on the slightly dampened grass beside him.

Pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, Elizabeta joined the once-great nation in gazing up at the sky. For a few hours, they could forget politics and problems. For a few hours, they could forget the pitiful state of one and the complicated state of the other. For that brief time, they could spend together. For an insignificant second of their everlasting existences…they could be human.


	2. Chapter 2

They had all had them; those humans that had earned a special place in their hearts and on their lands. No one was sure what it was about these mortal beings. Why it was that after their deaths, the Nation who had loved them would cry. The tears were never the kind that was shed on the battlefield. These ones were silent-something to be hidden and to show only to a select few or none at all.

_Why? Why did he have to…._

A few of these pitiable mortals were well known to everyone in their country and all across the world. A select few were openly claimed. Every Nation recognized that fact when it happened, but their fellow humans would never truly understand the implications. The rare ones were the loves that no one knew about. When those fragile mortals left their beloved countries behind, the sky above opened up and the very land seemed to bleed.

_I…I know it's hard. But believe me, you'll get over it!_

Every Nation eventually moved on; you have to when you live forever.

_You're crying…. I understand. I miss her, too. _

But forever engraved into their minds and on their hearts were those few special, pitiful, beautiful mortal beings.

_How can you smile like that despite the tears?_


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't often that America managed to get himself lost on his own lands, but when he did manage it…well, he was hopelessly lost. Luckily for him, he had lived long enough to know that in some situations, it really did help to ask for directions. That was how he found himself on the front porch of an old ranch house in middle-of-nowhere Kansas, knocking on the front door. There was a commotion from indoors, with dogs barking and a quiet yell and something scraping across hardwood floors before the door was swung open by an old man. He was tall and wide, with a head of neatly kept white hair. America blinked. He recognized the man; he had served in Vietnam and World War II. Different battalion, rank, and job, but America knew him all the same. There was a beat of silence before the man gave him a warm smile.

"Can I help you, young man?"

"Oh, yeah! Um, I'm lost. Can you direct me to, uh..where was it…?"America scratched his head, trying to remember the name of the old place. "Oh! To highway 54 and then to Hays. I kinda got turned around somewhere near Wichita…."

The old man looked surprised. "You're a fair distance from both of those! Here, come inside. I think I've got a map somewhere…." He held the door open and America thanked him. "You'll have to excuse the mess." the man apologized as he led America through the house. "We're trying to redo the family room."

America nodded and followed silently to the kitchen. In the room over, he glimpsed an older woman and a teenager making an attempt to move a sofa. "Uh…would you all like help?" America offered, smiling widely. "I've got some time!"

After a bit of polite protest and bright smiles and friendly conversations, America had managed to move the furniture out, bring ladders in, and had begun to paint the walls a nice shade of blue. He had learned that the man was named Bill and his wife Annie, and their 14-year old granddaughter was named Sarah (Of course, he had already known that) and that they were preparing to move out to Virginia to be with family, which was why they were trying to redo some of the rooms in the house.

After an hour of honest labor, everyone left for the kitchen to get some lemonade and have a moment of rest. The family thanked him profusely, and _of course it was no problem at all_ he laughed. Then the old man remembered he had to grab a heavy toolbox from the basement, but America offered to go instead because, really, what were heroes for? He found himself descending a red-carpeted staircase into a nice, brightly lit basement and he found himself in some back room, searching through cabinets for a box of tools. That was when he stumbled upon it.

The paper was yellowed with age, and the writing had long since begun to wear down to faded grey ink. But still…the headline was bold and blaring at the top.

**President Kennedy Shot- Nation Mourns**

And beneath was a picture of the man, smiling and waving and very much alive despite what the headlines read. The writing detailed the man's life and death, told how the country and many other nations would observe a moment of silence to mourn the loss of this great man's life. So Alfred went through the article, and he was overcome with memories. He didn't know how long he stayed, sitting cross-legged on the floor, chest aching and vision swimming, before he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The nation flinched and glanced behind him to see a pair of warm brown eyes. It was Sarah. Her eyes drifted from his and towards the paper spread carefully across the hard floor. "It's sad, isn't it?"she murmured, and sat down beside him. Her fingers traced the edges of the fragile paper and she said "It's okay to cry, Alfred. I know I did the first time I read this article. It's only human, after all, to be sad when someone disappears like that."

For a moment, all was quiet. Then, the first quiet sniffle was heard, followed soon after by another, before a steady sobbing took its place.

Alfred cried. For everyone he had lost, everything that had been taken, the people he had watched mourn, the emotions he could never display to the others because _he _was supposed to be the strong, unbreakable force. _He was the hero_. The greatest nation on earth, America.

But he was also the child, Alfred.

So in the quiet basement, with a little mortal girl who would never really understand, he let himself lament.


End file.
